National Guard evacuates Lyons residents to LifeBridge

Janice Wheeler cries as she greets her son Nathan Wheeler at LifeBridge Church on Friday morning, Sept. 13. Nathan was evacuated from Lyons. (Lewis Geyer/Times-Call)

LONGMONT -- A convoy of National Guard vehicles ferried Lyons residents out of the flood-stricken town Friday, handing them off to buses bound for LifeBridge Christian Church.

"Woo-hoo!" shouted one evacuated woman in a Broncos hooded sweatshirt as the Guard passed the North 53rd Street blockade on Colo. Highway 66. Other relieved residents waved, or shot a thumbs-up or pointed a victorious finger to the sky, which had just started to spit rain again after giving a peak of sunshine.

The Guard urged the entire town of 2,500 to leave. Many did. By midday, a LifeBridge pastor estimated that 700 people had come through the church, with maybe 300 staying. As the day went on, and friends and family began to navigate the blockaded roads to pick people up, the number dwindled to about 100.

That remnant got to end that day the way they began it -- with a power outage. Around 4 p.m., LifeBridge lost power and phone service, turning to candlelight, gas stoves and generator-powered lamps to keep going.

"There was a pretty much audible sigh," said the Rev. Drew Depler, one of 200 people keeping the church's relief efforts going. "But people are weathering it. They've been through a lot by now."

Indeed they had.

Graveyard shift

Michael Twarogowski had been carefully watching the rain fall and the river rise from his Lyons home Wednesday night. Both were happening much too quickly for his comfort.

At 1 a.m. Thursday, a sheriff's deputy agreed he should pack a kit bag. An hour later, the announcement came: seek higher ground. With his wife and daughter, Twarogowski sought the highest he could find, the town cemetery, where they spent the night in their station wagon.

"Things kind of slowed down, so I went down the hill to get a look," he said. "Everything on the south side was water, as far as the eye could see. And in the riverbed, it was just rushing, roaring. I've never seen anything like that in Colorado."

Not many had. More than one resident described a devastated town: the car wash wrecked, the market with 5 or 6 feet of standing water, homes rapidly rendered inaccessible.

"We came back to get our son's motorcycle and (the water) was 2 feet high," said Bear Wilson, a 23-year resident of Lyons who evacuated with her husband. "He came back again to salvage some of his things and the water was waist high. Things were floating away, knocking him over."

One of the things they couldn't salvage was her husband's wheelchair. James "Will" Wilson would ultimately leave Lyons by Humvee ambulance.

At least one family, the Arps, didn't wait to be told to leave. By the time 2 a.m. Thursday came, Nancy Arp and her 20-year-old daughter Molly, had packed up and left, heading to an out-of-town Super 8.

"My mom had a sneaky hunch about what would happen," Molly said at LifeBridge while a Chihuahua, Boo, and a nervous golden retriever, Holly, kept close. "She was on the fire department in Lyons for a long time, so she knows what the river can do."

A good thing, too. The family lived on Park Street, reported to be one of the worst-hit parts of Lyons.

"We have power lines down everywhere, homes flooded, cars against homes, the road crumbling and breaking," said Rhonda Reed, a Park Street resident who left with her husband, daughter, dog and cat. "Devastated. That's the only word for it. I don't even know that they're going to let us back in our neighborhood."

In a bizarre twist, a refrigerator and kitchen table the Reeds had ordered arrived the same day as the flood. Since her flood insurance doesn't cover contents, that means she gets to buy them twice.

"That's going to be a hard check to write," she said. "But it is what it is. We're safe. That's what's important."

Knowing the ropes

Safety was on Caitlin Rice's mind. Although she had made it out of Lyons, she still hadn't heard from her sister and brother-in-law, who had headed uphill after a harrowing rescue. Rice's sister had let her niece stay in a guest house, Rice said, but a bridge separating the guest house from the main one washed out in the flood.

To get the niece and her boyfriend to safety, Rice said, her sister and brother-in-law tossed them ropes and pulled them across the water.

"They started up the hill in back," Rice said. "Two dogs and four people. I just want them to be all right. There's so much devastation here."

School dazed

Lyon Elementary School had been the first rally point for evacuees. It worked well, until first the water and then the power went out. Bottled water, supplemented by the Guard, sufficed for drinking, but the bathroom was another matter.

"They were catching water from the downspouts in big trash cans and using that to flush," Twarogowski said. "But it was getting a little sketchy in there. It was getting a little ... odorous."

By contrast, the LifeBridge site was almost a study in abundance. As bus after bus brought people in, car after car streamed to the church to bring supplies. So many, in fact, that by early afternoon the church had to politely say "no more."

"If people ask, we're good with lunch stuff, and dinner's covered," Jay Ewing, a pastor, said to a group of volunteers at about 11:30 a.m. (Dinner was provided by Oskar Blues.)

"And no more bread, please," he added as another cart full of loaves was loaded up and taken into the church.

It was more than food. Piles of blankets, stacks of toilet paper and even a mountain of board games quickly accumulated. One evacuee laughed after realizing the game left at her table was "Aggravation."

"How appropriate!" she said.

Help in action

A system quickly developed. New arrivals signed in, so that any friends or family who checked could find out they were OK. Separate rooms were set aside for dogs and cats (and the handful of birds that showed up). Names were compiled into a spreadsheet and sent off to the city's emergency operations center; those who left with someone were asked to "sign out" on a whiteboard.

The whiteboard bore several other messages as well, including road closures and attempts to reach others in the area.

"John Dugan family, please let us know if you are OK," read one, followed by a phone number.